A DAY AT DREAMTHORPE

Evening Star, Issue 17922, 18 March 1922, Page 11

A DAY AT DREAMTHORPE

[By W.F.K.]

The weather has, on the whole, been very kind to ns since onr return from the shores of the Pacific, and Dunedin was at its best in this respect as my wife and I sped along George street in our little Pord sedan, in which we have journeyed together over 6,C00 miles. The morning ym, indeed, a perfect ono. and as wo turned into Anderson Bay road ana t-hen C® to Portfolio, fho aun-kissod' harbor, (With the city rising npon the other side, Was a scene of beauty. Above all was serene, but I regret I cannot say the na of what was below, for a worse road 0 not think we ever travelled over. The roads in the States are asphalt and concrete boulevards, dustiest, stonelmxoads to make the heart of a.motorist reioic© evermore. But here in Now Zealand you have for the present to be content with something very different. The Irish poet sings of Tire Rocky Road to Dublin. I will not press the simile ; but all motorists who have been to Broad Bay Will agree that there are a considerable Htunlxw of rocks on that highway, relieved here and there by potholes, newlaid metal, and ruts, negotiating which does not odd to one’s comfort for the time homg. In the short intervals during Whimi I could take my eyes off the road | looked longingly at the water, and (tould have sung with John Masefield t.

One road leads to London, One road 1 leads to Wales; My road leads me seawards To the white /lipping sails. One road leads to the river, As it goes singing slow; My road leads to shipping Where the bronzed sailors go. Loads me, luxes me, calls me To salt green tossing sea; A road without earth’s road dust la the right road for me. A wet road, heaving, shining, And wild with seagulls’_ cries, A mad salt sea wind blowing The salt spray in my eyes. • My road calls me, lures mo West, east, south, and north; Moat road-s lead men homewards, My road leads me forth, To add more miles to the tally Of grey miles left behind In quest of that one beauty God put me here to find. But alas 1 onr trail to-day did not lead wthcr to the river or the sea, but over a road upon which wo were pitched and tossed to an extent that would have given satisfaction to the most devoted' lover of Neptune’s realm. W© happened' npon ono or two cars, and then a flock of lambs camo in sight -with their , drover and his dogs. To pass safely by a mob of lambs requires both patience unci tact, both of which we flattered ourselves upon displaying on this occasion. The display was, however, quite lost upon the young Maori in charge, who made not the slightest acknowledgment of our consideration. How different would have been the manners of one of his Hawaiian cousins had this incident occurred at Honolulu! I wonder if a sunny climate tends to sunny manners and a dour climate to dour manners or no manners at all. Certain it is, however, that the winsome charm, courtesy, and responsiveness of the Island natives makes up a very large part of the joy of life over there. Macandrew’s Bay was passed, and then, after rounding a few more comers, whom should we see ahead but our host from Broad Bay! Dressed in a white hat, a well-worn blue serge suit, with khaki silk shirt and soft collar, ho had walked over three miles to meet us and greet us. We took him on board our “ jaunting car,” and after a brief “crack” we jaunted along again, and presently came'in view 1 of the long pier and the store, past which we turned uphill to a cross road, where the vehicle was left, it being considered judicious to travel the rest of the way on foot. A steep path, with grass on either side, led us up to Dreamthorpe. _ __ , Dreamthorpe! We had conjectured what it must be like many a time, when far away, and often written to and heard from its master, but to be there in person and see our revered friend once again in the flesh —this was indeed a red letter day! A gabled house with crossbeams, standing upon the hillside overlooking the harbor; it book our fancy straight away. A blaze of flowers in the garden, with the scent of mignonette, cheered us as we made our way in at the wicket gate, walked round to the front, and climbed up the steps to the entrance. Outside there was a certain air of mystery which raised pleasurable anticipations; inside all was charm and good taste. Our host conducted us into the cosy little sitting room, where, seated on the,lounge, with himself in the centre, wo got the “feelings” of the place. . . . . And I have felt

A presence that disturbs me , with the joy 01 elevated thoughts; a sense sublime 07 something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of m an:

A motion and a spirit that impels All thinking things, all objects of all thought, •

And rolls through all things. Wordsworth felt that way when he was in touch with the beautiful in Nature; with us the presence of certain people whom we rarely meet has a similar soulmoving effect. Conversation was carried , on until the lunch was announced by the ' doctor’s faithful housekeeper. Twentythree years in service) as we learned. Surely he must. have, had the good fortune to have secured the perfect housekeeper immortalised by George Gissing in 1 The Private Papers of Henry Ryeoroft ’! Having done full justice to the excellentlycooked and daintily-served meal (and who would not enjoy any meal in such company?) we were shown upstairs .through the library and out on to the balcony. What a view it was that glorious afternoon, the wide expanse of water glistening like burnished silver in the sun, on the opposite side Sawyers Bay and Port Chalmers nestling below and upon its emerald hills; close by a bit of land with a clump of fir trees jutted out into the sea, which reminded us of Friar’s Crag, on Derwent Water, where Ruskin when a child used to be taken by his nurse! After an hour’s talk on all sorts of things, wo slipped away by ourselves to browse among the hooks —some 1,500 volumes of which still remain a precious possession of their »wner. ‘What a time we had, just looking at their backs or taldng them down from the shelves! Charlotte Bronte, Bar--1 tie, Hawthorne, Meredith, George Macdonald, lan Maclaren, Richard Jefferies, and R.L.S., not to mention Emerson,

gliver Wendell Holme?!, Thoreau, John urroughs, and poets by the dozen. Hie theological works are on the opposite wall. t« Emerging once more on to the balcony, some poetry books were brought out, and the owner talked about them and read a strange weird poem by Rachel Lindsay, , 'General William Booth Enters Heaven.’ Booth led blindly with his big bass dram: dire you washed in the blood of the Lamb 1 The saints smiled gravely, and they said "He’s come!" Art you washed in the blood of the Lambl Walking lepers followed, rank on rank, Lurching bravos from the ditches dank. Drabs from the alleyways and drug fiends pale, Minds still passion-ridden, soul powers 'frail, •Vermin-oaten saints with mouldy breath, Unwashed legions with the ways of death. Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb ? The poem from which the foregoing is quoted is not meant to be irreverent in any sense, and depicts in a wonderful way in a few short verses the theology, the fervor, and the splendid results of the life cl the founder of the Salvation Army in

salving the broken earthenware -c. i human society. W Now a table was brought, out of the library, our kind host himself carrying up a tray with cups and saucers, buttered scones, cake, and a pot of freslidy-brewed tea. How good it all tasted I,' need not Say. A story was told, something abput a fox terrier, a rat, and “tliQ end of a perfect day. - ’ I think it wtiis about a picture with this title, but 1 twas looking at a little volume of Menus by J. B. Tahb, the American poet priest, who went blind before he passed to ‘‘nvlicro beyond these voices there is ponce.” ft was then "lie wrote those beautiful Jine&J Lx Texedius. ) The dawn to ours is dusk ko other eyes, And, light away, ( Our stars returning to thei r native skies Forget the.day. ) If then/ some, life bo brighter for the shade ■ ; That darkens mine, f To both, 0 Lord, more manifest ho made Thy light divine! j. The hour for our departure- had arrived all tool soon. Together wo w,wut down the road to our car, where wcM'said “Goodbye and God bless yon!” artel then drove back to town with many pleasant thoughts of a day we shall not forge,*; •